


Diversion

by Elisexyz



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Banter, Everybody Lives, F/M, Morning After, Post-Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:00:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22189048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elisexyz/pseuds/Elisexyz
Summary: Regina wakes up with Hook’s hair in her mouth and a vague sense of doom looming over her.
Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Evil Queen | Regina Mills
Comments: 11
Kudos: 38





	Diversion

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Tumblr prompt: ["Your pillow smells like lavender" + Hookedqueen](https://heytheredeann.tumblr.com/post/190739145174/your-pillow-smells-like-lavender-for-hooked).  
>    
>  Set in a post s3 finale AU, in which Neal is somehow alive and Marian was brought back, so both Regina and Hook are down for some rebound sex.

Regina wakes up with Hook’s hair in her mouth and a vague sense of doom looming over her.

It takes her a few moments to realize that they _slept_ together, in every damn sense of the phrase, judging by their clothes on the floor, and that she has nowhere nearly enough of an headache to indicate that she was drunk enough to make it seem like a good idea.

 _Hook_.

Of _all_ people —

When he begins to stir, she takes it as a sign that she’s allowed to remove his limbs from all over her, pushing herself up and kicking away the sheets, as she locates her panties and shirt first and foremost.

Hook grunts his disapproval at being all but elbowed away, but he makes no move to get up, lying on his stomach with his face half-pressed against the pillow.

How _dashing_.

“What time is it?” he asks, voice muffled and hoarse, one eye cracked half-open.

She eyes the clock. “Seven,” she answers, remembering with a vague sense of relief that Henry is with Emma for the night, so at least she wasn’t responsible for subjecting her son to anything inappropriate. She isn’t that far gone, apparently.

(She _is_ far gone enough that she decided to have sex with Hook to begin with, but — now that she’s sober, thinking of Robin, and Marian, and how she once again deluded herself into thinking that she could have some happiness before it was all ripped away — yeah, she can see why the distraction would be tempting. Why she accepted to share a drink with him, one miserable bastard to another, and why she brought him home with her.)

Hook huffs his disagreement at the apparently too early hour, hiding his whole face in the pillow. She’s pretty sure that that thing that came out of his mouth was the sound of a dying animal.

“Get up,” she urges, gathering his pants from the floor, since they are within reach, and tossing them on the bed. “I’m not bringing you any coffee here.”

Hook mutters unintelligibly, she isn’t sure if to protest or agree, but she doesn’t stop to find out, turning her attention to the mirror and trying to quickly fix her hair. She should take a shower, as soon as she’s kicked him out of the house. She has at least a couple of hours before she’s supposed to pick Henry up, after all.

And she could probably do with an aspirin.

“Your pillow smells like lavender,” Hook informs her, sounding vaguely weirded out. He has pushed himself up on his elbows, and he’s eyeing said pillow rather mistrustfully.

“ _So_?” she snaps, hands on her hips and eyebrows raised.

“I don’t _know_ , I was expecting something more — more —”

“Evil?” she guesses, wondering what kind of conversation she has been dragged into.

Hook has the audacity of _snorting_. Like _she_ is being ridiculous. “How does a pillow smell _evil_ , exactly?”

“Poison,” she deadpans, which at least has the satisfying effect of making him shut up for a second. “Now, do you want some coffee or not?”

That gets him to push himself up, if with a muttered joke about poisoned drinks, and grab his hook on the bedside table, because he has _priorities_ , apparently.

She doesn’t wait for him, heading downstairs to start preparing that damn coffee, so that maybe she can stop feeling so dead on her feet.

“Could we do this again, sometime?” is the first thing that he asks when he joins her downstairs, shirt open and hair completely dishevelled, either because he didn’t bother looking in a mirror or because he’s trying to look like a hot mess – she’d bet money on the latter, and it’s mildly irritating that it’s working.

The right answer to his question would be a big, loud _no_. But, well — the truth of the matter is that last night was an effective distraction, and as soon as he woke up she was too busy being annoyed to drown in self-pity. That could be considered progress.

“Maybe,” she concedes. “Now drink your coffee and get out of my house.”

He grins, apparently not at all put off by her harsh tone.

“As you wish, Your Majesty,” he says, bowing slightly. “You know how much I enjoy following your lead,” he adds, with a wink.

She has to hide a bit of a smile in her cup.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates comments, including: 
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> If you don’t want a reply, for any reason, feel free to sign your comment with “whisper” and I will appreciate it but not respond!


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